Doubt
by Ginny Perry
Summary: As the final battle approaches, N still harbors doubts about his goals. Ghetsis seeks to correct that. Collab fic! Harmoniashipping N/C!


This was actually an RP between my friend kibi and myself! She was playing N and I was Ghetsis. Each tilde represents a place where one reply starts and begins again. It's formatted as a story, so it should flow nicely~!

Harmoniashipping ahead, so rape and abuse! (don't act like you're surprised oh my god)

* * *

Of all the things that caused him fear, doubt was the last thing N had considered would bring his downfall.

The little inkling of doubt he had when he had met _that_ trainer had strengthened with his firsthand experience of Unova, and had grown much more powerful than he would have ever expected. It was there, gnawing away at him, and N, for all his talent for strategizing, had no idea how to deal with it. He had foreseen a trace of the emotion before, enough to pose a threat to the design of the plan. Then, it was a simple test of his convictions— a triviality he would move past to prove himself.

But now that it was here and very real, it terrorized him.

He had retreated to his old room in the castle, trying to lose himself in the still-working train sets that used to accomplish that job so well. Now, they brought him little comfort.

His thoughts raced, conjuring all the worst outcomes of his seemingly imminent failure. The plan would unravel, he would fall from grace. How would the other factors react? Would his castle crumble, and all of Team Plasma with it? Would Reshiram abandon him? Would he be cast out from Unova— jailed— investigated— tortured?

And most horrifying of all, what would his father do?

With effort, he lifted himself from the sky-patterned floor and wandered back out into the hallways. He walked without much purpose, only to keep himself moving. If the schedule was still intact, Ghetsis would be returning from Opelucid fairly soon. As always, the thought of that return brought N an instinctual sense of dread, though now it was intensified by the constant doubt. Perhaps he would welcome the man back with a display of the Legend Badge? Would that be enough to satisfy him?

Again, doubt. He raked his fingers through his hair, restlessly pacing the halls that suddenly seemed so cramped.

This was wrong. All so very, very wrong. As Ghetsis strode the staircase to the entrance of the castle, he could not fight the slight sinking feeling that tore at his chest. Those monotonous speeches has gone relatively well, as he knew they would. The people of this world were so easily persuaded, so _stupid_. They would believe anyone with the willpower to stand in front of a crowd and tug at their guilt, even if it meant abandoning years worth of labor and ties. As much of a success this was, there was still that oh so important variable in this whole equation… that boy.

Just thinking about him now caused that sick feeling to flare into anger, which now burned brightly.

N had been so willing at the beginning of his journey. So sure of the "truths," which were little more than force-fed sugar-coated _lies_. No, no, they weren't lies if he truly believed in them, right? Regardless, that sense of righteousness, of dedication near unspoken martyrdom… it was fading. Ghetsis could even see it in the way light reflected in the boy's eyes. It all probably seemed so perfect in the beginning, the promise of a new world for his companions and the promise of success. But something was dulling that hope. He didn't know what, but _something _was threatening to ruin the sage's decades worth of work and planning and organizing and implementing. Threatening to destroy a lifelong work still in progress.

No. _He would not let that happen_.

With his anger now barely covered, Ghetsis strode with a wide gait down the corridor of his castle. It did not take long to find that wretched son of his, pacing like a lunatic before he caught sight of his father. And as he looked up, the fizzled confidence was written all over his face, clear as day. It seemed to have even gotten worse.

"Tell me what it is, boy," he said sternly, standing yards away but still seeming to cast a looming darkness over him. "You were never good at hiding your emotions. What is causing you to fail so miserably at your goal? What is stopping you from showing the world your true potential?"

N couldn't help but flinch at the words, always so precise. He stared silently at the man for a moment, his own words seeming to falter before he could even speak them. How useless; a king's words should never fail him.

He swallowed thickly and averted his narrowed eyes to the edge of the floor. His faint reflection in the dark marble disgusted him.

"I… I am not failing," he eventually managed. He allowed himself a steadying breath before daring to look in Ghetsis' direction again. "Banish the thought— I am _far_ from failing. I obtained the Legend Badge. The eighth. The final."

He didn't even attempt to bring the badge out to show. It was already difficult enough to keep himself from trembling. He was lying, and that brief moment of false courage was already slipping. Eyes he was certain reflected his doubt wandered from Ghetsis, fearful and ashamed to look upon him.

"The greatest gym leader in the region could do nothing to stop me— Is that not enough assurance of my power?"

He was faltering. Hiding his emotions had once been N's strong point, but ever since he left the confines of that room, they were unstable. Ghetsis had taught him many times that emotions are weakening, and to show them in the face of peril could prove to be a deadly mistake. This, combined with the fact that the boy was _lying _to him, caused him to lose his own temper.

It only took four steps to reach him before Ghetsis had grabbed onto that black turtleneck and forced him against the wall. N's head made a rather disturbing sound as it hit the paneling. The sage could feel those muscles trembling under him. All it took was a little push, and that mental wall came toppling down quickly. The older man never _really _wanted to resort to harsh punishments; depending on his mood, a simple harsh reprimand or a firm blow would be enough. But Ghetsis was not in that sort of mood. No, he was fed up. _Angry_. The boy's failures were one thing, his wavering loyalty another… but to _lie_ to him…

"I don't know what makes you think that I am _stupid _enough to fall for one of your little games, N," he seethed slowly through grit teeth, twisting harder at the fabric that was wound in his hands. "But you know as well as I do that those silly badges mean _nothing_. Now tell me what you've been hiding, or I will wrench it out of your pitiful little throat."

The jolt of pain through his head was dizzying, sending his thoughts reeling for a moment. There was little time to recover from it, so he bit back the cry he wanted to give and tried desperately to steel himself. His instinct told him to fight back, but he had to ignore those urges; he knew struggling would be useless, anyway.

His back pressed helplessly into the wall and his body shaking, he allowed the already thin wall to shatter.

"I'm scared," was the pitiful first answer he could force out— the truest statement he's made. After that, the words leave him incredibly fast, even for him. They are disjointed, nearly mindless, like he has nothing to lose. And that strikes terror in the back of his mind because, in reality, he has _everything_ to lose. "The badges— if they mean nothing, why do I claim them? I do so so I may become the champion, correct? So I can liberate my friends? Liberation— doing so— Will I also tear Pokemon from trainers that, in truth, love them?"

_That_ trainer, the other Hero… spoke to him like he was a common criminal. Looked upon him with pity or hatred.

"What good will I bring? My friends' voices spoke to me of pain, and now they speak of love. I search for the truth, but it so constantly avoids me…"

His thoughts seemed to short circuit there, derailed as he realized the recklessness of his own words. His eyes stared off into a space just slightly past Ghetsis, at which he gaped with horror. The pain in his head was little more than a dull bruise now, overtaken by a crushing dread.

Stifled by the hold Ghetsis had on his turtleneck, N leaned his head back against the wall and forced his eyes and mouth shut, breathing raggedly through clenched teeth.

This could not do. This _would _not do. A short time in the real world, and N had already learned to question all that he had held true. Once again, the threat to his plans sent another flare of anger through his limbs and he shook his son until he heard a familiar smack against plaster.

"Have I taught you _nothing_, N?! Has my kindness and teachings fallen on deaf ears?!" The sage took a deep breath to release his tension. Terrorizing the boy would barely do any good, although it was quite effective at producing a horrified expression that elicited a rather pleasing feeling in the man.

"You _wound _me, child. How am I to feel? I entrust you with a task that I would entrust in no other… you were chosen for a reason to realize this new vision. And yet you do nothing but doubt…"

Ghetsis released the grip on N's shirt. His large hand now traveled to the boy's face, where the man caressed a pale cheek lovingly. Even after long weeks in the sun the skin remained unblemished and pure. _Beautiful_. He questioned whether or not to continue speaking, but instead decided on watching his son closely. How would he respond to the sudden gentle touch?

N was prepared for such a response. Again, he held back the yelp of pain and kept his eyes shut tightly. Perhaps he should think of other things, imagine other places and lose himself, like he used to as a child to soften the blows that were sure to come. But now, he couldn't seem to.

Just as he couldn't seem to manage an apology to Ghetsis' accusations. Guilt wormed its way in with the doubt. Ghetsis was right; N must have made a poor excuse for a king, wallowing in such petty emotions.

When the grip on his turtleneck was released, N inhaled sharply, preparing for whatever punishment was to come. He expected the hand to strike him, nails to tear at his skin— but neither happened. Upon reflex, he flinched at the contact, and his eyes snapped open, wide and questioning.

What was the meaning of this? This couldn't be part of his punishment; it simply didn't fit. Or… maybe it did, and this was a trick to fool him into thinking there would be no punishment.

Moments later, the hand still did not wound. Trickery or not, the touch was gentle, almost… loving. It's all N really wants. The thought that it was just a ruse nagged at the back of his mind, but it ultimately went ignored. Perhaps it was the dizziness brought on by the earlier throttling clouding his judgment, or something else. Either way, his eyes slid closed again, and he leaned just slightly into the hand, trying to get as much of the physical affection as he could before it could, inevitably, end.

Ghetsis felt N lean in as he continued to caress his soft skin. As his face changed from terror to contentment, the man could not resist a smile. It had become so easy to control this boy; a simple gesture of soft affection, and he would suddenly become much more willing and obedient. Despite all other failures, this trait in him remained unchanged. It made punishments a lot more… interesting.

The sage began to wonder just how far he could get away with before resistance came back in full swing. He could just be a bit more forceful then, he concluded.

His thumb now glided up his son's chin and rested at those thin, pink lips.

"Suck."

In a bit of a daze, it took him a moment to respond to the order. But it didn't go unheard for long. His lips parted, knowing and obedient, and he experimentally traced one of Ghetsis' fingers with the tip of his tongue.

One of his hands was lifted from the wall and sought Ghetsis' wrist, trying to give himself better access to those fingers. It hovered just over the skin, not quite daring to touch. He opened his mouth a bit wider to take in the index finger.

He made a small sound, a bit of a whimper, caught between fear… and a sick twinge of pleasure. His eyes opened, half-lidded as he began to suck, tentative but purposeful.

Ghetsis bit back a shudder as he felt the boy's warm breath on his hands, taking in his thumb and running a slick tongue along the back. He was quick to imagine those lips wrapped around his cock and instantly stiffened. As N took another into his mouth, flickering tentatively as he bobbed his head. That look on his face - slightly frightened, confused, and possibly even aroused - made his erection twitch. It was always his favorite part of his son when they played this game… besides those delicate sounds he made, of course.

"You think you know of trainers' love, N? You can't comprehend it if you don't grip the concept. You must prove your understanding. Only then will you understand the truth. You should be grateful that I am willing to offer you these teachings."

Ghetsis removed his fingers from N's eager mouth and dropped his hands to his sides. He could see his hardness protruding from beneath his silken robes.

"Now prove to me you understand. Show me your love. Get on your knees."

N didn't respond verbally, his mouth occupied, but his eyes did widen just slightly, flashing a confused blue-gray as he blinked, working over the concepts in his head. Love… The Pokemon used the word themselves, and he had heard it, but had he really understood it?

The fingers were removed, and he panted lightly, not bothering to wipe his mouth of the saliva. His eyes were downcast, already trained on the next target. He knew very well what was to come next, as well as what would happen if he tried to resist. Too many risks involved. Bear it; make it quick.

He sank to his knees and reached out, deftly pushing aside the robes.

N's vocabulary was vast, but his understanding always limited. He knew what he had to do in this situation, but was it really love? The giving of pleasure? Then how thin was the line between love and lust, affection and intercourse? He couldn't be sure, but he supposed, in the back of his mind, such contact as this was better than none at all.

No use pondering it now, he concluded as he took hold of the organ in his hands, but his touch was still timid— feather-light on the flesh— and the actions of his mouth equally so. He started at the tip, tonguing it experimentally as he did with the fingers before, then sliding in a bit further into his mouth.

As he did so, his eyes, half-open, were dull. Though he would admit his definition of the term was limited, this did not feel like love. A job— that was a more fitting term.

It was perfect, the boy's lack of resistance. Down to his knees he went; this pleased the man, seeing it as a groveling gesture. Degraded and humbled. Right where he belonged. Beautiful.

He freed Ghetsis's erection without a word, his hands working with slight reluctance but still so skilled. He had been taught well. The sage bit back a groan as that warm mouth surrounded him and experimentally lapped at the sensitive ridge at the back of the head. N's eyes looked sorrowed, conflicted, as though he was doubting what had been told to him about this special brand of "love."

Such a shame, he reminisced, that his naivety had slowly drained as the boy aged. Disguising this as a game as a child, disguising this as punishment when he became old enough to question. Despite much effort, N could not stay that perfectly innocent, delicate child Ghetsis had striven for. But no matter, really. He was still guileless enough to fear the threats held over his head. N learned long ago not to resist, and the older man knew exactly what to threaten him with to keep him in line.

"Put more effort into it, boy," he groaned, growing impatient with his seemingly exploratory efforts. An empty bluff would be enough to settle this. "I know about that trainer who intrigues you so. I've been watching. One simple order and I could have them eliminated. Is that what you want?"

The bluff hit its mark; N flinched, and his lips quivered, hovering over a plea of "no, not them"— a plea he quickly determined would be useless. He kept silent in favor of drawing the man's cock further in. The task had become much easier— automatic, almost— than it was when he was a child, but he still nearly choked (from revulsion or his too-hasty movements, he couldn't be sure). He shut his eyes tightly as the usual tears began to gather on his lashes.

His mind wandered again. Such an… oddly contradictory activity, this. The sheer terror he had of Ghetsis kept him going, but he could still hear how the man groaned. N's ministrations— his _own_— could bring out such a reaction in such a figure of horror. He rarely dwelled on that fact— didn't have time too, not after experiencing the way the activity seemed to tear him apart afterward— but he did now, just briefly.

He whined softly as he continued to bob his head. Just for a moment, he stopped his efforts and bared his teeth in a would-be snarl as he continued, slower. If he wanted to, he could bite down— mangle this grotesque device of puppetry in a single movement. But he wouldn't; to even dare would mean pain, death. It would be foolish to act on such thoughts. It would be foolish to even have them at all. Still, his teeth scraped lightly on the flesh.

He _knew _it would work. The boy's efforts seemed to double, that unruly tongue working so nimbly to please. Ghetsis shut his eyes as he felt the pleasure swell in him. A simple threat, and he was sucking his cock like a common whore. The sage reflected on how long he should allow this to last; could he stand coming now, delaying any other show of "affection?" Or should he bite back the feeling, allow it to build more slowly, and w-

A sudden sensation snapped him back into reality and brought him down from any high currently building. Teeth. N had grazed his head with his top teeth, a gesture the man _abhorred. _He saw it as an act of aggression, of haughtiness.

"You disrespectful _wretch_," he hissed as his fingers were quickly woven between locks of green hair, gripping his son like a vice as he began thrusting himself into N's mouth. The resistance of the back of the boy's throat bumped at his head, but it did not stop him from attempting to drive in further with every pump. He wanted him to _pay _for that, and would surely not forget when it came time for the main punishment.

N flinched at the sudden growl of an insult, instantly halting whatever movements he was going to make. He hadn't… actually done it, had he? Only considered it for a moment, he thought—

The tight grip on his hair tore him out of those thoughts, giving him no time to make sense of his own previous actions. He yelped, but it was cut short by the abrupt, increasingly painful jabs down his throat. This time, he did choke, and his tears spilled, rolling in searing streaks down his cheeks.

_Shameful_, he noted in a building suffocated haze, _and foolish_. What did he expect to gain from daring to bare his teeth? Some semblance of revenge? It was laughable.

This doubt was a dangerous thing.

His father's movements were beginning to become unbearable. The scream he attempted was a pitiful one, more of a sobbing whine.

_There _were those tears that he had missed. They left such darling lines past the boy's cheeks, down his neck and those jarring collarbones. The boy was often so stark and quick to hide his emotion. And there is was, clear as day, quite literally painted across his face. Ghetsis had succeeded in breaking down N's mental wall that he protected himself with. A few blatant words, and he was holding back sobs while on his knees. God, it was so _perfect_…

The vibrations of N's voice against his cock as he cried out proved too much. The man gripped his head tightly and rammed himself to the hilt one last time before releasing his seed down the boy's bruised throat.

In another effort to test him, Ghetsis did not release his son's hair after riding out his orgasm. He waited, head buzzing as his muscles relaxed, to see how N would react. The promise of failure warmed his body more than the rush of endorphins. How sweet the punishment would be…

N shuddered violently as he forced himself to swallow. Still, he choked and coughed on that which he could not. It seemed to burn in his throat, suffocate him. He waited for a moment, whimpering quietly as he tried to recover from the assault, his mouth, though now unmoving, still around Ghetsis' cock.

The man's fingers were still wound into his hair. N slowly opened his eyes, trying in vain to blink away the haze of tears. He looked up, and saw only a watery silhouette of the man— waiting.

Immediately, he had an image of what was to come next. His nearly blind eyes went wide with horror, then averted to a side, narrowed. In his lap, his fingers subconsciously curled, nails clawing into his knees.

He was making one foolish decision after another; perhaps he deserved what was to come.

_No_, said the doubt, _you don't_.

He wouldn't move, not with that hand clinging to him. So he continued to wait, trying to rebuild the wall that had been shattered.

He watched with slight amusement as his son choked on his seed. Just as expected. No matter how much training N had, there were some things he could never perfect. Swallowing with a cock shoved down his throat was one of those things. And, to make the transition easier logistically, Ghetsis had made it law that it was to be done without hesitation or trouble.

"You broke one of our rules, N," he said calmly, a hint of false disappointment in his voice. "Surely, you deserve to be punished further…?"

The hand that still grasped at his locks now shoved the boy to the floor with a violent push.

"Remove your clothing."

Making no further protests, N allowed himself to be pushed to the floor. He stayed there for a moment, on his side and breathing shakily, before willing himself to sit upright. His fingers automatically began their next task, first taking the pendant from his neck, then deftly pulling off the turtleneck. The removal of that article put the blemishes of his otherwise pure skin on display— jagged scars left by the claws of Pokemon, old bruises and months-old slashes that had nearly healed. Imperfections. For a moment, he feared that removing the turtleneck was a bad decision. Still, he would not risk dwelling on it at this point.

His hands hesitated, trembling, over the buttons of his trousers. But that moment of hesitation was dangerous; he forced himself to continue, unbuttoning the fly and pushing the pants down his thighs to his knees.

He stopped there, sitting back a bit, his gaze averted elsewhere. His now mostly naked body shivered, shaken more by fear than by the suddenly very cold hallway.

Watching the boy undress was incredibly arousing in itself, the sage had found. The way N's hands trembled while meticulously removed every article - in the same sequence every time - was the only indication of his fear; that blank expression he wore was well-practiced and masked his emotions well.

As much as he preferred to disregard the boy's well-being and ram into him without restraint, those sweet times were reserved for more severe punishments. Had he considered it further, Ghetsis may have convinced himself that it was necessary, considering the circumstances; instead, he took N by the shoulders and rolled him over on his stomach, propping his knees up. The older man placed a hand delicately at the base of his son's neck, slowly trailing down his bony spine until he reached his intended target. Without a word, Ghetsis entered a digit, moving quickly before slipping another inside. He was growing impatient.

"Do you see how kind I am, N?" his father said intently while his other hand caressed N's backside. "I could have easily just torn through you, but I am feeling generous today. Perhaps you won't bleed all over the carpet like the last time you disobeyed orders."

He sent a strong slap to the pale flesh.

"Am I not merciful?"

N barely moved as he was guided into the new position, save for hanging his head in apparent shame. Always the puppet. His scarred back arched against the touch, savoring the almost gentle movement as his muscles twitched and shuddered in terrified anticipation of the less gentle things to come. His body tensed abruptly when the fingers penetrated inside, cold, intrusive, and jabbing— too fast. Pressed against the equally cold marble floors, his hands clenched into fists as he swallowed sounds that would voice his discomfort.

He nearly whimpered at the memory of past punishments, then unabashedly cried out as Ghetsis' hand struck him. The sting of the blow quickly spread through his trembling thighs, and he felt horribly mortified.

He tried to search for an answer to Ghetsis' question, unsure if it was rhetorical, but he stumbled over the already meek word. "Y— _Nnh_…!"

His body reacted quite differently than his mind did, and differently than he had expected. There was a sharp twinge of pleasure, deeper, as Ghetsis' long fingers continued to delve. They brushed something— a precise spot that made N's head swim and forced from him an unwilling, high-pitched moan. Subconsciously, he spread his legs apart slightly more, feeling both revolted by his own reactions and desperate to feel that twinge again.

When Ghetsis heard his son moan, so obviously from a twinge of pleasure, a wave of warmth passed through his body and his cock twitched. This wasn't even _expected_. Not that he wasn't willing to work with it. The sage worked his fingers skillfully, taking care to stimulate N where it seemed to elicit that delicate cry. That voice, those trembling limbs and tense muscles…

Yes, this would certainly put a new spin on this punishment.

Ghetsis withdrew his hand as the whines became more desperate. He would not give the boy the satisfaction of coming. Not yet at least, he determined. Still, it was a divine opportunity to continue his assault. The man wanted to see those tears, streaked over that fragile and torn face. Such a beautiful moment…

"You sound like you're enjoying this, boy… but perhaps you want more…?"

With no warning, the sage aligned himself with N's body, and forced himself through without hesitation.

N found his vision blurring as the pleasure mounted, confusing and overwhelming in its intensity. His arms shook, threatening to give out and bring him to the floor.

"Ah— Th-there…" he pleaded, feeling he might come undone, already close to his peak. Those touches and strokes… They were impossibly, sickeningly _good_.

Of course, just as he considered it, the hand disappeared. Unable to stop himself, he whined desperately in protest, weakly rolling his hips against nothing. Of course he wouldn't be allowed that release; he was foolish to think he would be. He bowed his head, breathing in whimpering gasps, ashamed that yes, he _was_ enjoying it. One should not enjoy punishment.

His whimpers were quickly elevated to a painful shriek. He bit his lower lip to keep from crying out again and squirmed, trying to get used to the new intrusion.

Ghetsis bit back a shudder as he sank into him, greeted with the familiar sound of N's stifled cries and the warmth of blood against his cock. After reaching the hilt, he paused before moving to take in the beauty of his son's body. It looked and felt as pure as the first time he subjected the boy to this whole ordeal, sans a few scars from goodness _knows_ where. But now that N was older, the sage was no longer concerned with preserving this perfection. Once he served his purpose as king, he would no longer be of use to him.

That is, no other use but a warm vessel to fuck.

The man began to move as his hands grasped thin hips and nails dug into flesh. Slowly, ever so slowly… as much as he wanted to pound into him uninhibited, those brief moans of pleasure were much too sweet to go to waste. He had to build up to pace. Taunt him a little. _Humiliate _him.

"How does that feel, N? Are you liking what daddy is doing to you?"

The pain was sharp as it tore into him. Though he contained an outright cry, there was an involuntary spasm of his shoulders and a short agonized sound not unlike a sob. Fresh tears that he could not stop seared his eyes.

He twitched in weak protest as he felt hands grab hold of his hips and shut his eyes tightly as the nails joined in, clawing at him. But the thrusts weren't as violent as the first; they were slow and deliberate, easing him back into that haze of pleasure. The stabbing pain dulled and even the sting of the nails against his hips seemed to subside. The tears slid down flushed cheeks. N found himself moving, rocking his hips slowly, following the rhythm of the thrusts. Puppetry.

There was a question that went unheard for a moment as he lost himself in the carnal sensations. _No!_ his mind screamed in answer, but more overwhelming was the response of his body, a physical craving that he couldn't understand. Even the feeling of blood on the inside of his thigh didn't seem to deter him.

_Touch me_, he wanted to beg— guide those cruel hands down between his legs— but he wouldn't dare. Words failed him in the haze anyway.

"Ah, ahh…!" he gasped. "Ghetsis— Unnh, daddy, please…" _Make it stop_.

Hearing him use that word sent his mind into a frenzy. _Fuck_, this was getting difficult… it almost hurt to keep this pace, so deliberate and slow, but… that pang in his voice was certainly that of desire. _Need_. This could only be as, if not more, torturous for N than what the older man was suffering through. It was worth this nerve-wracking if he could get the boy to whimper even _more_…

"'Please?'" he repeated softly in a falsely confounded tone. "Do you want me to stop?"

Ghetsis forced his hips forward a little more quickly, noticing that the lithe body beneath him had begun meeting his thrusts with its own movements. Yes, there was no doubt now. What a warped little king he had molded before him.

Those large hands that clung at N's hips were now sliding along his thighs, fingertips brushing so closely to the boy's erection. The man could not help but tease him.

"Or do you want me to fuck you harder?"

The sharp whine he gave and the way he eagerly kept up his pace were answer enough. It wasn't a simple stop he craved; it was a finish. The heavy burning that spread between his legs was unbearable now, and the strokes to his blood-touched thighs only added to the blaze.

"Please," he whimpered helplessly. He felt dizzied, disoriented. "I— I need… I—!"

Each thrust tore a small, tortured sound from him— sounds that might have been words, had he the sense to properly form them beyond his mindless begging. The sensations here that trapped him were overwhelmingly foreign; mutual pleasure, but so torturous. The jolts of pleasure as Ghetsis moved did not relieve the aching need, but only encouraged it. N's hips jerked and he strained, desperate for that stimulation he was denied. One hand pressed into the floor twitched and clawed, almost daring to grasp the man's wrist and pull it to the destination he wanted. But N was not the puppeteer; the hand stayed where it was.

"W-want…" he mewled, struggling to find an answer to the man's question. Did he dare? "T… Touch me…"

_"Touch me?"_Could Ghetsis be mistaking what he heard? The man was suddenly torn between enchantment and anger. Hearing the boy's voice so overtaken with pleasure… it stirred pride in the man, seeing what he had whittled N down to. Driven by nothing but primal need. He had cast his toy well, it seemed.

But still…this lowly excuse for a human being, wanting, _demanding_something from him… it nearly made his blood boil.

The man thrusting hard into his son, heightening his pace once more. Ghetsis's hands traveled to N's chest and began raking down his abdomen, nails painfully tearing at sensitive skin. The man could feel bone, nothing but skin and bone… so fragile, so tempting to _break_…

"Beg me for it," he whispered, hiding his twisted interest through a thin veil of apathy. "Beg me for what you want, N…"

Ghetsis could wait just a little bit longer.

N whimpered shamefully and ducked his head, bracing himself against the floor as he struggled to keep up with the man's pace. His eyes shut tightly, letting more tears fall, down his face and to the marble below.

Ghetsis' nails left angry red streaks down his stomach to match the deeper scars on his ribs. Though he expected the pain, N's face contorted in agony; he snarled and hissed through his teeth like a wounded animal. But even that pain did not distract from the real torment of the thrusts, delaying his coherent thought as they pushing him so close to the edge. The pain seemed only trivial in comparison to the dizzying pleasure.

What a weak, despicable thing he was, so easily swayed and overwhelmed by this carnality. It was breaking him, just as it always had.

"St— Please—!" he started, whining out the words between ragged gasps. "End it! D- do it, do it to me… Hahh— Please, I— I can't take…!"

"Can't take anymore" was what he intended to say, but the coherency was quickly lost, the sentence interrupted by a brief sobbing moan.

Ghetsis pulled out for a quick moment before flipping his son onto his back, wanting to see that precious face. He was flushed, his eyes filled with tears, cheeks scrunched in what looked like a mixture of pain and fear. But in those hazy eyes, the sage caught a glimpse of what he wanted.

_Desire_.

"'Can't take it anymore?' What a sick little slut you are," he smirked before reentering N once more, loving the way his breath hitched and moaned as he returned to the previous pace. "You're quite demanding in your punishments, I see. Why _ever_ would you want to come _now_?" Ghetsis leaned over and brushed his lips against the boy's, tracing the bottom with his tongue, nipping and biting playfully. He wanted to see the young king reach out, to return the caresses in a wordless plead for more.

As much as it pained him to hold back… this would be so beautifully worth the efforts. Break him into a begging whore. Let him indulge in his self-hating desires.

Then tear them all away until he is left with nothing.

Not expecting the shift, N gasped sharply and was about to whine, lament the sudden neglect. But he froze and stared transfixed back at the man, as if startled to see his face, and the red eye watching him. He squirmed, aware that now he seemed to be put on even clearer display now that he was face to face with the man. The tears, his flushed, heated flesh, the way his scar-littered chest heaved desperately like a trapped animal's, the hopelessly erect organ between his legs— all were unobscured.

Still, his legs lifted of their own accord as if to welcome the man, and he tilted his head back and arched with a feverish moan. A slut? Perhaps that was an appropriate name, though it humiliated him, because it seemed that his body _was_ ready for more, against his word.

And he was putting on quite a show already, wasn't he?

His lips parted at Ghetsis' next actions, mouthed out unintelligible whimpers. He reciprocated fiercely, trying to copy those touches to his lips. He nipped in return, trying to catch Ghetsis' lips with brushes of his teeth, and reached out with his own tongue to meet the man's.

Just as expected. The boy's inexperienced mouth returned the gesture in full force, well enough to warm Ghetsis's blood and cause his cock to swell. The desperation of it all was perfect; half-lidded eyes glazed over and hazed peered back at him as he fought the urge to smile. N was older, now, but still as awkward at this as he had been so long ago. It almost seemed as though his son was mimicking his motions. Regardless of his torments, he was still so closely bound to his father. Nothing, not even the influence of some silly "hero," was strong enough to free him from the permanent binds.

Yes. No matter how this whole liberation charade panned out, he would still have his toy, his perfectly sculpted toy.

Ghetsis reached down between N's legs, placing a hand at his thigh so dangerously close to the symbol of his true neediness. The man pulled away from his son's lips before leaning over him once more, his breath heavy against the rim of N's ear.

"You want me to touch you here, don't you?" he whispered, vainly trying to speak with perfect clarity. His fingers raked along the pale flesh of the thin leg in a mocking tease. "Tell me you want to come, N. I want to hear you cry it out for me."

N groaned and rolled his hips up in some attempt at moving that hand to the destination he wanted. He arched again and leaned his head back as Ghetsis moved in closer, lips grazing the sensitive shell of his ear.

"Y—es," he answered brokenly. He continued to squirm, his legs trembling in response to the nails raking at them, his toes curling. He raised his arms and bent them back to brace himself.

Cry it out for him? Hadn't N done that enough?

… Of course not. And yet he tried again.

"Be merciful to me," he pleaded breathily, between rattling breaths. "I w-want… I want to come…"

It was more of a weak whimper than anything, so he quickly decided to repeat it, louder, more desperate: "I want to come— L-let me— Make me come…!"

There it was, the demand. It was enough to make the man snap. One hand wrapped itself around the boy's thin neck, squeezing mercilessly, threatening to crush the cartilage of his windpipe. Wheezing squeaks were all Ghetsis heard as he felt N attempt to swallow, attempt to gasp and draw in any possible molecule of oxygen he could manage through his strangled throat. The quick flush of blue that tinted the boy's cheeks was enough to make him quiver.

"You've strayed so far from that perfect potential you once were," he spoke, voice harsh, no longer laced with that faux-seduction. Ghetsis slammed into him now without mercy, with nothing but the intention to hurt. To tear away. "Look at you, now. Giving _demands. _Perhaps I haven't taught you thoroughly enough…"

Another tight squeeze, and he could feel the protrusions of bone along the boy's spine. How much more force would it take to break it, he wondered…?

The moment he felt fingers around his neck, N knew he had made a fatal error. Abruptly, that torturous pleasure he had been enveloped in was gone, replaced with a crushing pain around his throat, and panic in his mind. His body tensed, all instinct screaming at him to fight back— at least try prying the hand away— but he wouldn't. He doubted he could even if he wanted to, already rendered exhausted and helpless by the vanishing arousal. His eyes, still glazed with tears, snapped open and stared with an almost questioning horror up at Ghetsis as he struggled in vain for breath. He squeaked pathetically in agony as the man moved again, cleaving violently into him.

Soon, as Ghetsis began to speak, N's slate eyes turned glassy, empty and soulless, as if he had suddenly decided to accept his fate. Ghetsis' words cut deep. Perhaps he was hopeless, then, if his potential had been lost. That was the fault of the doubt, he realized. The world had doomed him and his cause. He would be worthless with this doubt in his heart.

Maybe he could rid himself of it. That was what his plan was; he would face off against the one chosen to be the hero and Zekrom. That battle would bring an end to all of this…

He was terribly dizzy and weak, and his vision seemed to be fading at the edges, but his mind suddenly began to whir, kicked into overdrive by the horror of the squeeze. He was going to die. Ghetsis was wringing his neck, could shatter it, could shatter his body, could shatter everything.

His mouth opened in a silent scream and his eyes clenched shut. He choked and wheezed, trying to force out his voice, an apology, a plea. All he could manage was an unintelligible, barely audible and tremulous creaking of his vocal cords.

"Hahh— Ah-ah…"

As he bore down on his son, taking in that peculiar look of horror and acceptance, the man could hold back no longer. Ghetsis had followed the plan so perfectly and was rewarded with this vessel, a body torn between instinct and the engrained need to obey. It was more than flattering to see N give in; he would not fight back and let himself be taken, leave his hands to his sides as the man who helped give him life violently took it away.

The boy might have grown defiant in his years. Nothing more than a minor annoyance, his father concluded, as his questioning of the truth rarely became ever more than a week without sleep, a constant nagging question pounding at his brain that N could not escape from. In fact, it was _ideal_. Despite those teenage hormones and human inclinations, he still drove towards that made-up dream. Still took orders with little contempt.

Still laid there with his legs spread wide. Still let his precious daddy fuck him until he could no longer walk. Still let hands break his neck without so much as a struggle to live.

Perhaps N no longer _wanted_ to live. Or was his devotion so strong that he knew not to question it? Either way was acceptable to the sage. After all, his use as as "king" would soon be null, and he would prove to be little more than a nuisance. This lifelong role as a sexual object would be his calling; perhaps he could still be warped enough into accepting it as well as he did now, have him remain the obedient little toy who knew what Ghetsis liked and who knew better not to dress his own wounds.

And if not… he could easily be disposed of.

The notion warmed the man's blood a final time, and as he released his vice-like grip from around N's throat, he pulled out quickly and let his seed spill over the boy's face in one final act of degradation. The gesture itself had the man appreciate the thought as he came down from his high… N being used for nothing but this. To be corrupted and broken. Sobbing and begging.

Yes, a bout of defiance would be perfect at that point.

Once his throat was released, N wasted no time in desperately taking in a lifesaving breath. His lungs demanded more of it and he could focus on nothing else, his vision swimming and heart pounding with terror. But the second breath he took contained little air, only the heat and bitterness of a familiar fluid. He inhaled upon instinct, and had soon thrashed onto his side, coughing and sputtering on it, feebly trying to clear it out and breathe at the same time.

The act left him in a weak, unsightly state, collapsed on his side, one cheek pressed into the floor, lips parted and dripping coughed-out saliva as he wheezed. His senses came back to him slowly as the need for oxygen was met, and he was increasingly aware of how much everything _hurt_— his throat, his legs, the claw marks along his ribs, his pelvis…

But he was alive, and the deed had been done. He became aware of the signs of that as well— strands of it that had been released across his face. They clung to his skin and hair, and threads of it still remained on his lips, sharp-flavored and warm. He simultaneously felt humiliation and a twinge of jealousy between his legs. It had occurred to him before that Ghetsis had no intention of allowing him release, but it still aroused renewed frustration in him.

He decided to make a final effort to look presentable. With a slight groan, he pushed himself onto his back, eyes searching for his captor. He unintentionally spread his legs with the motion, putting on display his weakening but still-there arousal. Pushing aside his disgust, he licked his lips, taking in the fluid that he had not swallowed with a delicate sound.

As Ghetsis composed himself and stepped away, he looked down upon the sight of his defiled son. He grimaced at N's heaving body, wrinkling his nose as he adjusted his displaced robes. It was in these moments of the boy's pitiful displays that the sage could not help but be utterly disgusted by him. So quickly was he able to turn his father's desire.

"Disgraceful," he spat as he eyed N's still half-hard erection, displayed immodestly between his thighs. "Have you no shame, lying there with your legs spread wide like a needy whore? Have I not satisfied your repulsive desires enough?"

Ghetsis slipped his foot beneath one of the boy's legs and kicked him, attempting to force N to curl in upon himself and hide his indecency. The ungrateful child angered him, but he fought to contain himself. He had done what was necessary; it was silly to waste any more energy attempting to correct his flaws for now.

"Now go clean yourself up," the man said shortly, uncaringly, before turning away and heading towards his bedroom. He no longer had any desire to look at him.

N inhaled sharply at the words, wincing as if he'd been stricken. He felt Ghetsis' foot move beneath his leg, but couldn't find it in himself to defend against its contact. It accomplished its goal; N promptly shifted the leg to hide himself, trying to ignore the warm smear of blood against his skin as one thigh met the other. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, making an attempt at willing away those indecent thoughts still plaguing his mind and body, rid himself of what Ghetsis had labeled as repulsive and replace it with shame. He waited in strained silence, hoping his father would see the attempt and approve of it enough to leave him be, just enough to let him recover.

Soon, before N had a chance to do anything more, Ghetsis gave his typical parting order, and was gone.

N stayed still for a few moments before allowing himself to open his eyes and let out the breath he hadn't realized that he'd been holding. The movement forced a quiet whimper from his throat, but he turned onto his stomach and got to his hands and knees, breathing raggedly as pain coursed through him. Right in his shame or not, he guessed that he looked the part of the indecent one as he glanced over his defiled body, already ravaged by scars and now marked with sweat and release. Between his bloodied thighs laid his abandoned arousal, wet with precum at the head. His face contorted with disgust and anger, and he had to fight the urge to sob.

There was certain shame in his mind, as there always was, but with it now was the doubt. _A disgraceful, needy whore with repulsive desires_… He would agree, but they weren't his own desires, were they? It was Ghetsis, not him, that had initiated this; N had only complied, because he had no other choice. Were they really his own desires if they had forced them out of him? Maybe Ghetsis was wrong in what he had said… But Ghetsis was never wrong.

And what did this have to do with their original talk— the one of love? N had learned nothing new, and his confusion remained, his conclusions perhaps even more out of reach than before. Sitting on his knees with a wince, he rose his hands to his face, hiding his eyes behind his palms. He hadn't attempted anything rebellious in years, and now he was daring to consider that Ghetsis was wrong? It was foolish. But then again, it seemed that everything was beginning to change— every preconceived theory suddenly challenged.

It scared him.

His shoulders shook and his eyes burned, but he only allowed himself one short, choked sound to voice his anguish before he forced down the emotion.

_Clean yourself up_. It took a great deal of willpower to get himself to his feet, but he did so anyway without another sound, as he always did. He didn't bother putting back on his clothes, and instead stood quiet and unmoving, naked and holding his clothes to his chest. He realized that he didn't really feel like bothering with _anything_, even with following Ghetsis' order, especially when he knew well how the water would sting. Maybe he could disobey, and simply stay here and sleep, wait for the other hero to arrive, wait for a judgement he could trust with absolute certainty to occur.

He wiped at his mouth with a sleeve of the wrinkled turtleneck, and glanced down the hallway, in the direction Ghetsis had departed. He hesitated, but soon turned and began to limp toward the bathroom, wincing with each painful, cold step on the marble. He was wrong; there was nothing else he could do. Ghetsis was always right. He just had to remember that as a simple truth.


End file.
